YH, BE Bunnies: SideShots
by umm-anthea
Summary: The collection of side-shots that were in Yellow-Haired, Blue-Eyed Bunnies. Includes Creek, Style, and Kytophe
1. Chapter 1

Title: Yellow-Haired, Blue-Eyed Bunnies

Pairing(s): Kenny/Butters, Stan/Kyle, Craig/Tweek

Chapter: 4.5/?

Words:

Craig's POV

I vaguely hear Kyle yell at Kenny through the haze of smoke billowing out of my mouth. Tweek's legs are resting comfortably across my lap as he sits precariously on the plushy armrest of the small couch we're seated on (it's more of a loveseat, if anything). I pass him our shared blunt and somewhat focus my attention to the happenings around us.

I just catch Kenny say, "Did you want me to say that I came down here to see your pretty, red, Jew-curls?"

I snort quietly to myself as Kyle laughs openly, pushing Stan nearly on top of Clyde to allow Kenny to join our circle. Kenny pulls Butters straight into his lap and I almost applaud him for his audacity.

"Gettin' cozy, Kenny?" I hear Stan's words overly laced with amusement and smoke and I see Clyde's shoulders shake with laughter.

"Don't judge me, Stan," Kenny mutters and I almost laugh outright, when Tweek shifts his body forward to rest his head gently on my shoulder. All of my attention is on him in an instant; I wrap my strong arms around his middle and pull him snuggly into my side, reclining back into the sofa. I take another hit from our rolled up joint before leaning forward slightly toward the coffee table to snuff it out in the ashtray. I hear Tweek whine brokenly against my neck and angle my head to look down at him.

"What's up, Tweekers?" I mumble nearly incoherently. I've lost track of time and how many illegal substances I've ingested while at this party. However, I _can_ tell you just how many shots, drinks, beers, and joints Tweek has drank and smoked respectively. "How the fuck is that possible?" You might ask. I will answer: I have no fucking clue. Two minutes later and I finally get a response from Tweek.

"If I sit here much longer, I'm going to fall asleep in your lap, Craig."

It's infinitely easier to understand Tweek when he isn't heavily caffeinated and extremely paranoid. Take the coffee away, pour some alcohol in him, get him a little high, and he's putty in your hands. I smile a devil's smile and push him gently off my lap just as Cartman comes bounding down the stairs screaming for Kenny. I glance over to the couch and notice that Kenny and Butters have mysteriously disappeared. Then, I see Kenny's head pop up from behind the revolving chair placed next to the couches.

"Goddamn it, Cartman. What the fuck do you want? I'm busy!"

He sounds a lot a bit of pissed, frustrated, and horny. I can only imagine what Butters is doing to him behind the chair.

"Aw, Kennay don't get all pissy on me. I can't spend time with my favorite blonde?" In middle school, that would have been considered a ploy to get Kenny to do something horrible for Cartman. Now, it's actually quite true. Fucking idiots.

Kenny looks like he wants to punch Cartman in the face, and I'm actually surprised when he doesn't. I miss what Kenny says next as I grab Tweek's hand and pull him casually over to the staircase, quite intent on getting his ass on the dance floor. I take one more backwards glance toward the group of guys on the couch and see Kenny dragging Butters over to the guest room by his hair. Kinky.

We disappear up the steps and into one of the living areas that are scattered throughout the Black's house. I turn my head in time to see Tweek's eyes light up when they spot the packed dancing area and I am now the one being dragged across the room. Tweek expertly maneuvers us through the crowd of people around us and into the sweaty, dancing bodies of our classmates.

There's a heavy beat blasting through the speakers and Tweek's body is already pressed flush against mine, grinding, twisting, writhing. I grasp my little blonde's slim hips tightly to push him back against me as close as we can fit without falling over and move my hips to match his. He brings one of his arms up to twine his fingers through the hair that gathers at the nape of my neck and I nearly growl as he pushes his ass hard into my rapidly interested dick. The music is loud in my ears and I can feel the vibrations of the speakers through the air, pulsating against my skin. Tweek's other hand is tracing shapes up and down one of my outer thighs, tantalizingly avoiding the area I want it to be most. The hands that were grasping at his hips are now rubbing slow, teasing circles across his stomach and hips, occasionally dipping momentarily into the waistband of his loose jeans, eliciting gasps and moans past Tweek's pink lips. I mouth my way up his neck to one of his ears and proceed to tease the living hell out of him by nibbling and sucking on the cartilage and lobe of his ear.

"Oh, God!" Tweek breathes out almost inaudibly and I smile in reminiscence of his earlier use of that phrase. Not so paranoid, now. He may be anxious to get my hands just _there,_ but he is definitely not paranoid.

I barely brush my fingers across the line of his zipper and his hips jut backwards into mine, back arching beautifully. Fuck, I need to find us a fucking room and fast. Or a nicely shadowed corner… My thumb is dragging lazy shapes across the front of his pants and his head drops back onto my shoulder.

"What's up, Tweekers," I mumble directly into his ear and his resulting moan is answer enough. However, I'm not done with him just yet. I want him to be begging me for it by the time I'm done with him.

I turn him around slowly, pulling his arm down from around my neck, just to have it reattached when he's facing me. I slip one of my legs between his, placing one hand on his ass and the other on his hip. The hand on his ass works together with the hand on his hip to manually grind his hips hard into mine. His head falls back again, this time exposing the front of his neck to my lips and teeth, which happily nip and suck and lick until one specific spot I find makes him grind particularly hard against me. I torture the spot right below his jaw with hard sucks and tentative bites until he's moaning straight into my ear. Tweek's grip in my hair forces me to redirect my lips to his own and soon enough my tongue is dominatingly thrusting in and out of Tweek's mouth in time with our hips. My hand moves from gripping his ass tightly to running up under his shirt along the muscles in his back, while my other hand sneaks up his side, dragging his shirt higher and higher with each pass upwards. By the time I have his shirt half way up his torso he's moaning into my mouth and gripping my hair tightly.

I pull back slightly to gasp out, "Tweek, let's go."

My hands slip out from under his shirt to drag him across the room yet again, this time bolting through the hallways in search of the staircase that leads upstairs. I finally find it and shove Tweek in front of me so I can clearly see his ass move in front of me as he stumbles cutely up the steps. Two doors down, take a right, through the door: guest room #2 located. I let my eyes scan the room to make sure it's unoccupied before I shut the door behind Tweek, slamming him up against it to reacquaint our lips. He's moaning again and _fuck_ his hips will be the death of me. I still them with my hands for a brief moment before they slide over to the front of his jeans, deftly undoing the button and tugging lightly at the zipper. I know it isn't enough pressure to pull the zipper down and the teasing is successful when I hear him keen loudly.

I slowly tug his zipper down and lean back to enjoy watching his back arch spectacularly with a gasping moan. He whines low in his throat when I swat his hand away from yanking his pants down.

I smother my face in his neck and lap at his skin before whispering, "What do you want, Tweek?"

He mewls quietly when my palm brushes against him through the fabric of his jeans and I finally get the response I'm searching for:

"Craig, please – just – I need you. It hurts, _please_."

Perfect.

I shove both his boxers and his pants down and off in two swift motions and grasp his hard cock in an almost-too-tight grip, giving it a slow pull. His hands are clutching my shoulders and his breaths are coming in sharp, shallow gasps. He is on his tiptoes trying futilely to thrust into my hand and I take some sadistic pleasure in this. I hum quietly against his collarbone, quickly making a decision that will surely make Tweek's night.

I slide down to my knees in front of his quivering body and breathe slow, controlled breaths across his twitching member. I twist my wrist sharply at the base of his cock and give it another couple of pulls before I brush my thumb through the slit. I let my gaze travel up his shaking, writhing body to lock with his heavily hooded eyes. I watch his eyes slide shut as I run my tongue languidly across his slit, sucking the tip into my mouth. He's still on his tippy toes, but this time he is consciously trying to keep his hips still for the moment. I run my hand up from his right calf to behind his knee and lift his leg up over my left shoulder, keeping his thrusts to a minimum with my other hand. I take his whole cock in my mouth, the bobs of my head interspersed with the suction. He's moaning something sweet and I allow his hips some freedom when one of his hands lands on top of my right shoulder while the other lands on top of my head.

My mind is spinning and I can barely focus on the task in front of me until I hear Tweek whine out my name in between his mewling and moaning. I look up and nearly cum on the spot when I see his eyes focused on watching me suck his cock. His bottom lip is between his teeth, cheeks flushed a pretty pink, hair a mess. His tee shirt is crumpled up exposing his stomach and most of his chest and I have half a mind to straighten it out for him. However, the disheveled look always suited Tweek.

His fingers are digging into my shoulder and my scalp and his dick slips out of my mouth with a pop as I move to take a retaliatory nip to his inner thigh. He makes that irresistible noise again and I growl against his skin, hands gripping his thighs, to keep myself from plowing him through the floor then and there. The fingers in my hair tighten and he squirms viciously in my grip, obviously wanting the hot, wetness of my mouth back on him.

"_Craig_, damn it! Fucking get back to it already!"

I breathe a laugh against his hip and yet again enjoy his frustrated squirming, trying to find relief in some kind of friction. I finally allow him satisfaction by taking him whole again, deep-throating him on every third bob of my head, closing my throat tightly around his head. He's twisting and turning every which way, tossing his head side to side against the door, moaning out his pleasure as loudly as he can. I feel his muscles tense under my fierce grip and suddenly he's climaxing down my throat, back bowed, head thrown back, face a picture of pure pleasure. His body goes limp in my grip and I allow his body to slide down next to mine, pleased with the sated look on his face.

"Oh, God that was amazing," he slurs out tiredly and I find myself hoping he won't pass out on me just yet. The night is barely starting.

"I know." I smirk down at him when he slaps me lightly on the arm. I reach over to where I tossed his jeans and boxers and shuffle them back up his legs before scooping his light form up in my arms to carry him over to the spacious bed in the middle of the room. I lie down next to him and play with his golden locks that are spread across my chest. He's sprawled across my body and the bed, taking up as much room as someone of his small stature is capable of. I look down at my little angel and smile at the luck I drew in having this one as my best friend.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Yellow-Haired, Blue-Eyed Bunnies

Chapter: 4.52/?

Pairing(s): Kenny/Butters (implied), Stan/Kyle, a splash of Token/Red

Words:

**Kyle's POV**

I'm relaxing in the basement of Token's house with Craig, Tweek, and Clyde, wondering just exactly where Stan is, considering Craig came back at least three minutes ago. They had run off together 15 minutes previously, looking all mischievous with Butters sandwiched between them, but I was left out of the loop of… _whatever_ they were doing. Craig looked slightly flushed when he came back down the steps at a run, but I didn't ask and he didn't tell.

Clyde is trying to forcibly shove a bowl in my hands and I'm just about to snap on him when I see Stan stroll over to our circle out of the corner of my eye.

"Where were you?" I ask, slightly irritable. He left me without my best friend in the whole wide world for the last 20 minutes and it was not entirely enjoyable, even in my partially drunken state.

"Aw, did you miss me Kylie?" He taunts and I smack him hard in the thigh. He laughs at my "retaliation" and throws himself into the spot next to me, grabbing the bowl from Clyde and lighting it up. I sigh dramatically from beside him and he nearly chokes on the smoke in his mouth when he holds back his laugh.

"Serves you right, you pot head," I grumble, irritation laced with amusement, and he blows a smoky kiss to me.

"I was giving Kenny something he's wanted for quite some time, if you must know," Stan says quietly, turning his body to face me on the couch.

I swing one of my legs over his and scoot my body closer to him, addicted to the tingly sensation I get when we get this close to each other. We sit amicably for a few minutes while listening to a stoned and drunk Clyde babble on about Bebe. Once Clyde trails off to go grab another beer from across the room, Stan smirks something impish and takes another quick hit from the bowl before he grabs the back of my head to press our lips together. He pries my lips open with the aid of his tongue and immediately lets the smoke unfurl into my unexpected mouth. I gasp when he starts twisting his tongue sinuously against mine and unfortunately inhale most of the smoke between our open mouths. I'm left slightly breathless and disoriented, but I manage to catch the small laugh he lets slip. I can still taste the smoke on my tongue and the burn in my throat when it unexpectedly slid into my lungs. I resist the urge to cough and instead punch Stan in the hip.

"Hey! What was that for?" Stan laughs out, half indignant and half amused.

"_That_ was for making my inhale that shit. _This _was for kissing me," I say, grabbing the edges of his cap to pull his face close enough to mine in order to place a sweet peck on his waiting lips. He smiles adoringly down at me, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and snuggling me into his side. When Clyde returns with a cold beer, Stan turns his torso towards him to continue passing the bowl back and forth. I frown and wrinkle my nose a little at their game, but am distracted from saying anything when I see Butters and Kenny stumble down the steps.

I slide Stan's arm off my shoulders and am almost out of my seat, but Stan keeps me seated with a loose grip around my waist. I'm too shocked at what I see to protest properly. Apparently, that something that Kenny has wanted for quite some time is _Butters_. Kenny is hovering over Butters and it's obvious that he tripped coming down the steps by his slightly awkward stance. I watch Butters' eyes flutter closed and the words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.

"Kenny! What the hell, dude? Where have you been?" I see Stan look at me from my peripheral vision, but ignore it in favor of commenting on Kenny's presence in the basement. He's eyeing the bowl being passed between Stan and Clyde, stumbling over to us with his arm slung over Butters' shoulders.

"You better not be down here to smoke, too, Kenny."

"Sorry to disappoint, but that's what I'm here for, Jew-boy," Kenny states and the frown on my face grows deeper. Kenny's finger gently rubs the crease between my brows and I immediately relax into the soft touch. For some bizarre reason, Kenny has always had some weird instinct about knowing how to calm me down or get me to relax. The more time we spent with each other over the years, the better he was able to read my body language and act accordingly. I hear him laugh and say, "Did you want me to say that I came down here to see your pretty, red, Jew-curls?"

I try hard not to laugh for a few seconds, but the way he said it and the warm, amused look in his eyes has me laughing in the end. I shove Stan away towards Clyde, as to not disrupt their ritualistic _light, inhale, hold, exhale, pass, repeat_. I stare openly when Kenny drags Butters straight into his lap and I lean forwards to give a questioning look to Stan. He just smirks deviously at me and I know he'll tell me about it later by the way his eyes light up. He was never good at keeping such things from me.

"Gettin' cozy, Kenny?" Stan asks while still looking at me and I laugh when Kenny says, "Don't judge me, Stan."

I see Stan pass the bowl to Kenny and pointedly look away when he accepts it; acting the goody-goody two shoes I'm known to be. I look back over to see Kenny easing the smoke slowly out of his mouth, trying not to blow smoke in Butters face and I redirect my gaze back at Stan with another questioning look.

"Okay, seriously, Stanley. What did you do to them?" I question slightly suspiciously, slightly jokingly.

Stan laughs and mutters, "I'll tell you later, man. Just enjoy the moment."

"But you must have done something to open Kenny's eyes real wide because he looks like he wants to fuck Butters through this sofa, and Stan, I'm gonna be honest with you: I'm not prepared to be a witness to that."

Stan snorts and finally gives in a little, "I'll fill you in when we're relatively alone and not speaking over the two people we're talking about. I don't think they'd notice at this point, but you know Kenny pays attention the moment you don't want him to."

I silently agree with him and lean back into couch, content with the situation for now. However, the next thing I know, Kenny has his lips attached to Butters' and I _know_ it's rude to stare, but I'm having a sort of déjà vu watching them. I can see stray wisps of smoke leaking out of their mouths and I'm vaguely aware of my jaw being open and my head tilting to the side. I'm too stunned and too drunk to react properly when Kenny turns to look at me and I almost thank him when he shuts my mouth with his finger. The next moment, Kenny and Butters have disappeared behind a chair and I turn my head slowly to glare at Stan, who all but bursts out laughing at the expression on my face. I open my mouth to start bombarding Stan with all of the questions floating around in my head when I'm interrupted by Cartman's loud mouth.

I forgo listening to any of their on-going conversation in favor of giving a pointed look to Stan, pushing myself into a standing position to walk back upstairs. I'm halfway up the steps before I feel Stan's fingers wrap around my ankle. I stumble a little when I don't immediately realize he has a pretty good grip on me and nearly fall on my face. I turn around only to see Stan on his knees three steps down, leaning most of his weight on his free hand on the step below me. I sit down in favor of standing and notice his grin grow marginally bigger. I tilt my head to the side with a quirk of one of my eyebrows and lean back on my elbows.

"So, what the hell was that all about?" I inquire quietly, waiting patiently for him to tell me what the _fuck_ was going on.

Stan laughs outright and slides up the remaining steps to sit on the one below mine, opening his mouth to speak, but is immediately interrupted by Craig and Tweek running up the other side of the wide staircase. Once they're through the door, he finally answers my question.

"Kenny and I had a rather interesting conversation today, that's all. I was teasing him about spending so much time with Butters… but he thought I was being serious and how he reacted totally gave him away. It was hilarious, Kyle. He blushed. Kenny McCormick _blushed_. I didn't think it was possible."

Stan's deep, calm voice is soothing to my ears and I'm _almost_ too distracted to hear the actual words. I understood enough of it to know that he didn't quite answer my question. The alcohol is doing too good of a job at numbing me.

"Stan, that doesn't answer my question…"

"Well… I wanted to help Kenny along in his relationship with Butters… So I dragged Craig into my awesome 'Get Kenny Laid' plan."

" 'Get Kenny-' Kenny doesn't _need_ to be laid, Stan. What he needs is a healthy relationship," I say exasperatedly.

Stan smiles replying, "I know. The getting laid part comes later, I promise. Relationship first; then sex, sex, _sex_."

I laugh at his last statement and poke him, prodding him to keep going.

"Right, the plan was to get Kenny jealous without him knocking my teeth out or bashing my face in or maiming me in general. Craig came up with the brilliant plan of dancing, since it's kind of like sex, just with clothes on, ya know?"

"Stan, that's just harsh. You _and_ Craig were dancing with Butters?" I wince at their cheekiness.

"Ha! Think about it, Kyle. You know that's the fastest way to get something across to Kenny. Show him what he can have, but is too much of an ass to see, and poof. He'll finally see. And saw, he did."

"You kept it strictly professional and Kenny saw straight through your little ploy because of that and egged you on."

"Do you want me to tell the story, or are you just going to figure it out on your own and ruin all of my fun and pride?"

"Oh, no. Please, continue."

"Well, we're totally getting Butters all hot and bothered, right? He's in between me and Craig; back to me, front to Craig and I swear to God: If I had any sort of sexual attraction to Butters, I would have said 'Screw the plan' and fucked him myself. That boy sure as shit knows how to move his body to drive any person crazy. I don't care how straight you are."

"But you didn't 'cause you love meeee."

"Yeah, something like that," Stan smirks, "I get Kenny's attention and turn it up a notch when I know he knows it's a sort of game. He didn't really react the way I thought he would and got Craig out of the range of fire."

"So _that's_ why he came sprinting down the steps."

"I stayed behind to make sure Kenny kept his attention on Butters. I may or may not have molested his ass. Which is quite tantalizing, I might add. I would tap that if I weren't already tapping someone else's ass. I presented him with the challenge of owning Butters' ass and I must say that I succeeded quite well."

I laugh at that and say, "You're so modest. I can't believe your little plan actually worked."

"Don't doubt my powers of deduction and seduction and reduction-"

"Reduction, Stan? I don't think that word fits this situation, unless you're talking about reducing Kenny and Butters to shivering balls of horny teenage boys. I think we need to take a few more shots to get your words straight."

He tackles me when we reach the top of the steps and I wiggle out from underneath him to sprint towards the kitchen, Stan hot on my heels. When he chases me through the kitchen doors, we almost collide head on with Token. And Red. Who are making out in the middle of the kitchen. Red is seated on the island's counter with Token in between her spread legs; Token is so tall and Red, so short, that the height of the counter still doesn't make Red eye level with Token. Stan bursts out laughing and I tentatively creep around their little make-out session to grab the bottle of Burnett's and our two shot glasses. We settle ourselves at the kitchen table, as far away as possible from Token and Red, and pour out a generous amount of vodka into each of our shot glasses.

We've been here since 6 o'clock and it's only our fourth shot of the night. I'm not as drunk as I'd like to be and I know Stan feels exactly the same way when he downs the shot and motions for more. I smile widely at him and refill our shot glasses, already feeling the tingly and warming affects of the new alcohol rushing through my system. We down our second shot and I reach down the table to grab a bowl of potato chips and another bowl of pretzels. I pass the pretzels towards Stan and we munch on our snacks until we can feel the full effects of alcohol coursing through our veins. The sounds of Token and Red sucking face are loud and awkward in the near silent kitchen and I stifle my laughter in a new handful of potato chips before motioning to Stan to leave the kitchen, immediately.

As soon as we're out of the kitchen, Stan stutters through his laughter, "I didn't know Red had it in her. Token is going to be one whipped mother fucker when she's done with him."

"Not as whipped as you are to me," I say slyly, twining my fingers through his and leading him through the rooms to make our rounds. We only just got through our first two groups when I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket, and I curse out loud hoping it's not my mom checking up on me because I just chugged a beer and downed another shot with Stan. There's no way I'm coherent enough to pretend I'm not well on my way to being completely trashed, but my anxiety is smothered when I check my phone and see it's just a text message from Kenny reading: **In guest bedroom of basement. Bring me a big blanket so I don't have to move. Love you.**

I laugh out loud at the text and watch as Stan does yet another shot, texting Kenny back, "**You're so fucking lazy. Fleece blanket or legit blanket?**" Kenny is so fucking lucky that I'm still coherent enough to read his text message, let alone text him back. I immediately get his response:

**Legit. Make it snappy, bitch.**

I shove my phone back into my back pocket and grab Stan's arm to sling it over my shoulder in order to start my search for a "legit" blanket. I drag Stan back down the basement stairs and sit him down on the last step to open the closet door right next to the staircase. Stan is laughing to himself about a joke he thought I was listening to and I gather a comforter up in one of my arms before turning back around to Stan who shockingly stood up on his own just to collapse into my other side. I shift both objects up in my arms to make my trek across the room and walk through the door trying to shush Stan's laughter while trying not to laugh myself. We stumble over to the bed and I drop Stan on his ass, getting an angry and confused noise in response. I shake the blanket out over Butters' and Kenny's entwined bodies, taking care to cover both of them completely. I balance myself over Kenny's body to place a soft kiss on his forehead, turning unsteadily back to Stan, hefting him back up against my side to carry him out of the room.

We make it halfway across the room before Stan says, "Can't feel my feet," and promptly trips, dragging me to the floor with him. I'm a giggling mess of drunk as I fall down, half on top of him, but mostly just tangled around him. He sighs softly and tilts his head back to scan the room for any people that might be lingering around before he reaches down to wrap his hand in my shirt to pull my face up to his. I shift my body over him until I'm straddling his waist and follow his pull until our lips are softly pressed together. His tongue flicks out to trace along my bottom lip and I obligingly part my lips to allow his tongue access to my mouth. He groans deep in his throat when our tongues slide wetly against each other and he skates his hands along my back to pull me tight against his body. The moan that slides out of my mouth and into his is throaty and I am rewarded for it with Stan's fingers twisting into my curls.

He props himself up on one elbow to gain a better angle to devour my moans and his shift in position pushes me back into his lap. I whine out my approval, grinding down into his lap to show it. His resulting gasp is satisfying and the way he pushes me off his lap and onto my back is even more so. Stan always was the dominate one in our multitude of relationships; I was more natural at being submissive to him. I know tonight that he's in a gentle mood when he doesn't immediately start ripping my clothes off my body and begin marking me everywhere with teeth and lips. Instead, he's gently kissing a trail along my jaw, paying close attention to the spots that make my toes curl, delicately drawing another trail of saliva with his tongue down the column of my throat, stopping at the dip between my collarbones to suck and lick teasingly. His hands are back at my hips, pulling at my legs to wrap them around his waist, yet again gaining that leverage to have his way with me.

He's torturing me slowly with the light grinding of his hips against mine and the leisurely thrusting of his tongue in my mouth. His right hand is gently cupping my head, his thumb lightly tracing patterns across my cheekbones, while his left hand has a surprisingly firm grip on my thigh.

The previous time he kissed me this gently was before he left for three consecutive college tours that were supposed to last the duration of one week. I was at his house, helping him pack (in reality, I was more of a distraction), and when the time came for him to climb into the back of his parents' SUV and drive off… I was clutching onto him, face buried in his neck, ignoring his dad's impatient foot tapping… He placed his hands on either sides of my head and pulled me into the sweetest kiss I've ever had the pleasure of receiving… And the last images I remember from that day are of tears streaming down his face and the sight of their car driving down the street and out of view.

I'm ripped back into the present with a startled gasp when I'm suddenly aware of Stan's warm, calloused hand sneaking underneath my shirt to tickle over my abdomen and stomach. My breath catches in my throat when his thumb steadily massages tiny circles over my hip and dips beneath my jeans momentarily. I'm gradually becoming more and more aroused by the minute and I'm not drunk enough to do this on Token's basement floor of all places.

I tear my mouth reluctantly away from Stan's and gasp out, "Stan, we can't do this here. Floors are exceptionally uncomfortable and exceedingly inconvenient."

I feel, more than hear, Stan's muffled laugh against my throat before he asks, "Kyle, how do you _still_ have the ability to say big words like 'incoven- enconvie-'… big words in general when you've had like five shots?"

I snort before I counter, "The same way you can keep playing football after numerous injuries. They're abilities we both have ingrained in our brains." He flips me over so I'm lying on my stomach and he settles himself on the backs of my thighs.

"If we're going to have a science lesson, can it at least be anatomy and not biology?" I giggle and arch my back when I feel his finger trace my spine from the base of my neck to the top of my ass.

"Let's learn about the spinal column, Kyle. Do you know anything about it?" he asks, but doesn't give me a chance to answer, "For starters, there are 26 vertebrae in the spinal column, divided into five different sections," He mumbles as his hand returns to the back of my neck and his finger individually traces each bump, "There are seven cervical vertebrae in the human neck, known as C1 through C7."

A shiver races up and down my spine as his hand continues to count until he draws an invisible, horizontal line across my shoulders. He continues down my spine, again making sure to trace each individual bone.

"The twelve thoracic vertebrae, also known as T1 – T12, make up the thoracic spine and correspond to each pair of ribs." As he states this, he traces the contours of my ribs with both of his hands and draws another line across the middle of my back before continuing his spontaneous anatomy lesson.

"The five lumbar vertebrae make up the lower back and are known as L1 – L5." His finger finally stops right at the top of my jeans and he draws another line across my waistband. Instead of carrying on his line down my spine, he opts to grab my ass in both hands and squeeze a little. My squirming is interrupted by him speaking yet again, "The five sacral vertebrae are fused together to make up one bone, called the sacrum, and the four coccygeal vertebrae are also fused together into another single bone, that is commonly known as the tailbone." I'm arching into his teasing hands by the time his last little speech is done and I'm half dumbfounded, half turned on.

"You tease me about being able to say words like 'exceptionally uncomfortable' and 'exceedingly inconvenient,' and then give me a detailed anatomy lesson about the spinal column? If that isn't hypocritical, then I have no idea what is."

Stan snickers and smacks my ass lightly, "I have an anatomy test on Monday. The spinal column is included."

I shake my head in amazement and there's an idea half-formed in my head about helping him study all weekend; with hands on experience, he's bound to ace that test. However, Stan rolls off my back to sprawl out next to me and I can tell he really just wants to get off by the way his eyes are glazed over and how the fingers in his right hand are twitching minutely. I notice his eyebrow twitching periodically also and I suddenly realize why he isn't trying to rip my clothes off right now. Whenever he feels like he's using me, that one eyebrow always twitches. It's like his tell if we were playing poker. I sigh softly and push myself up onto my hands and knees before silently crawling across the two feet that separates us, leaning over his body to catch his gaze.

"You should go find Wendy. It isn't like I'm never going to see you again if you leave me alone for one night, Stan," I say playfully, trying to get across that I don't mind not being the one he needs tonight.

He smiles a grateful smile and I laugh when he shoots up into a sitting position to kiss me all over my face before bounding across the room and up the steps. I shake my head to myself and plop myself backwards to gaze up at the ceiling, thinking to myself that I've just put myself in an uncomfortable and unfortunate position by letting the one person who would get me off tonight run to his girl toy. I sigh deeply and close my eyes to try and will the room to stop spinning. I let out a startled yelp when I open them to see someone peering down at me who was _definitely_ not there when I closed my eyes. He smirks subtly at my scared yelp and my heart is still pounding in my chest when he bends over to rest his hands on his knees. My hand moves on its own to cover my racing heart, trying to will it to slow the fuck down, but all it seems to do is beat faster. Something twists itself into a knot in my stomach as his hand reaches down to run his palm over my forehead, digging his fingers into the hair on the top of my head.

"Christophe?"


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Yellow-Haired, Blue-Eyed Bunnies

Chapter: WTF/?

Pairing(s): Christophe/Kyle

Words:

**Christophe's POV**

I have been at this wretched party for over three hours already and my vivid imagination is now moving on from beating Gregory to a bloody pulp with my shovel to toying with the idea of killing him with my bare hands. Just one hard jab to a pressure point to immobilize him and I can finally wrap my strong, calloused, killing fingers around that slender throat, choking the annoying nagging to a silence. What is my justified excuse? If he keeps talking, I swear to the God in which I do not believe my ears will start to bleed. I will rip his pretty, pale throat right out if the white noise does not stop, now. My hand is already moving upwards to swiftly jab into one of his pressure points when he is suddenly- mercifully- distracted by a brunette with whom he seems to be well acquainted. I impatiently wait until his full attention is turned to her before soundlessly making my retreat down the hallway and into another room, stealthily locating a door hidden in a dark, unassuming corner. I slowly turn the door knob, opening the door just wide enough for the width of my body to fit through before closing it just as quietly as I opened it.

I let a soundless sigh pass through my lips, carefully maneuvering my way down the wide staircase and into the main room of the basement, being sure to keep silent in the case that others are down here also. After a quick scan of the room, I deem it empty and spot an extremely comfortable looking sofa, almost vaulting myself onto it. However, I notice a head of red hair peeking out from behind it and I cock my head to the side, smirking to myself at the familiarity of it. I make my way silently around the sofa in time to see his forest green eyes close and hear a frustrated sigh. I am at his side in two quick strides, peering down at him, waiting for those eyes to open once more. When they do, the boy lets out a startled yelp and I can feel the smirk subtly grow on my face. His hand comes to rest over his heart as I place my hands on my knees to further invade his personal space. I lean forward to slide the palm of one of my hands over his forehead digging the fingers into the curly red hair at the top of his head.

"Christophe?"

The way my given name falls over his tongue and through his lips has a manic grin replacing the smirk on my face and I take sick pleasure in the way he tries to suppress his shudder.

" 'ello, Ky-el," I murmur, words thick with a French accent and the desire to kill, maim, fuck- they are all the same to me tonight. His eyelids fall to half-mast when I speak and I tilt my head in quiet consideration. I nearly have an entire strategic plan mapped out in my head, but he opens his mouth to speak before I can finish and execute it.

"W-What the hell are you doing here?" His voice sounds slightly wounded, as if my presence has offended him in some way. My curiosity gets the better of me and soon the hate-filled need to kill and maim with which Gregory left me is evaporating and all that remains is **fuck**.

"What does eet matter?" I hear my voice purr, but am more focused on the way my body fits against his when I move to straddle his thin waist. I chuckle darkly when he nearly has a conniption and for once in my life I am patient with another human being, waiting for the multitude of questions I know is boiling beneath the surface.

"You've been missing for nearly eight years! Where the hell did you go? Why are you here now? Wha-" I abruptly cut him off by covering his mouth with my hand, glaring sternly down at him, waiting for the crease between his brows to disappear.

"I 'ave not been missing for eight years, you just 'ave not seen me. I 'ave been living in France wiz my muzza for five of zose eight years and I am 'ere now because Gregory forced me to come to zis 'orrid party. Now, keep your lips closed because I am in no mood to answer ze many questions you undoubtedly 'ave." My hand leaves the front of his mouth to curl around the back of his neck when he nods in cooperation, and I pull his head a few inches off of the floor to press his lips against mine. I allow for a few seconds of softness to occur before all of my resolve crumbles; my tongue is pushing roughly past his lips, between his teeth, and into his mouth to twine dominatingly against his. I am twirling his curls gently between my fingers when I am rudely interrupted by Gregory's voice booming down the staircase.

"Christophe? Where the bloody hell did you go? I know you're down there, you prick. I can smell you!" his irritating voice assaults my ears and the desire to kill has returned full-force. The hand that was almost delicately resting against Kyle's collarbone is now curling instinctually around his throat.

"Fuckin' 'ell, Gregory. I am busy! Leave me alone, you piece of sheet!" I yell back at him and am only satisfied when I hear his angry sigh as well as the door slamming closed.

"_Chr-Christophe_!"

I look down at Kyle to find him tugging futilely against my wrist, scratching at the back of my hand, gasping for the air that is unable to reach his lungs. The unintentional grip I have on his throat immediately loosens and I stare apologetically down at him.

"I am terribly sorry, Ky-el, but whenever I 'ear zat voice, all I want to do eez keell." I run my fingers over his throat soothingly and unconsciously tilt my head again in thought, "I like you, Ky-el. You do not beetch like Gregory does. Even after I 'ad my fingers wrapped around your throat, you do not beetch at me."

Kyle smiles crookedly and replies, "Yes, well I figured you weren't intentionally choking me considering your tongue was half way down my throat seconds before."

The need to kill evaporates just as quickly as earlier when I hear his explanation and I lean down once again to continue my in-depth reconnaissance of Kyle's mouth. His response is more urgent this time and I find myself enjoying the returning pressure of his tongue against mine in the tight, wet space of our connected mouths. My hands rub slow, calming circles over his shoulders before roaming further down his lithe body, thumbs passing briefly over his nipples through the fabric of his cotton shirt. He arches slightly at my fleeting touch and gasps suddenly into my mouth when my fingers deftly travel under his shirt to run teasing lines across his chest and stomach. I twist his shirt around my fingers to tug it up under his chin, ripping my mouth away from his just long enough to pull his shirt over his head, throwing it haphazardly across the room. He shivers as the cold air hits his warm skin and I hum my amusement against his jaw line. He scoffs adorably at this and I am taken completely off-guard when he pushes me upright, shoving his hands up under my army green tee shirt, prompting me to raise my arms. He drags the shirt over my head and a self-satisfied smirk appears on his lips when I involuntarily shiver at the cold air wrapping itself around my body, depriving me of all warmth.

I push him so his back hits the floor again and slowly lower my body over his. The moment his hands run up my arms to wrap themselves around my neck, we are ravaging each other's mouths again, all teeth and tongues. Moans of pleasure are steadily leaking out of his mouth and his slim hips are twisting desperately in my grasp, trying in vain to press up against me. I leave a trail of wet kisses down his throat and along his collarbone before pulling back into a sitting position. He whines when his hands are forced to leave their place around my neck as I sit up, letting them fall to the tops of my thighs. He is staring up at me with those deep green eyes and for a few moments, I cannot tear my gaze from his. The spell is broken when I move my hands and his gaze is immediately tracking their every movement. I pop the top button on my jeans and cock my head to the side when he immediately shifts his gaze away and blushes a flattering shade of pink.

"Hmm. Eez zis too fast for you?" I inquire, half playfully and half serious. His blush increases tenfold and I almost smile at the adorableness of his embarrassment.

"I am not going to push you any furzer if you are uncomfortable," I say in a consoling voice, attempting to keep him from running as fast and as far as he can. Unexpected relief floods through me when he visibly relaxes at this and I re-button my jeans to prove my statement.

"'owever," he tenses again and I grin down at him, "You will be receiving proper treatment tonight, Ky-el Broflovski." His eyes widen at my words, but not one complaint falls from his lips.

My mouth is once again attacking his skin mercilessly; teeth, lips, and tongue finding spot after spot that make his toes curl, body squirm, or moans shift into whimpers. My fingers wrap around his delicate-looking wrists to pin his arms beside his head as I suck and lick at one particular spot under his jaw. His head is tilted to one side in absolute submission and I reel my lust back in to a pleasant simmer when it nearly explodes into a burning passion. I focus on Kyle's pleasure instead, dragging my teeth down his throat to latch onto one of his nipples and eliciting a choked moan from his mouth. His body writhes as I teasingly suck each one in turn before I shift further down his torso to plant butterfly kisses along his abdomen and lower stomach. My hands have slid down his arms and chest to rest against his sides and I peer up at him from my position above his trousers.

"You don't have to be so gentle, you know. I'm not glass," He whimpers, looking down at me indignantly.

I raise an eyebrow at this remark before testing this new found theory; I drag my tongue across his lower stomach, fastening my teeth harshly onto his hip without hesitation. The lust I was previously attempting to suppress burns furiously when he moans at the slight abuse and I lick the bite mark several times to soothe it. He softly brushes the tips of his fingers across my cheek and the lust drains out of me at the sheer look of trust and want- of what, I am not sure- and I am forced to stop, to rethink this situation. The darker, greedier side of me retaliates against my persistent need to think, and I am left disoriented and confused of what I truly want. He undoubtedly sees the hesitation on my face and I do not attempt to hide it from him. I sigh laboriously and rest my forehead against his stomach, uncertain of what to do for the first time in my life. His palms are cupping my cheeks and he pulls on my face until it is inches from his own before he places a soft kiss on my nose.

"I'm tired, Christophe. Tuck me in?" he asks innocently and I suddenly realize that I am enamored with him.

"Of course, _mon cher_," I whisper against his lips, tugging him up into a standing position. He walks to the bigger of the two couches and throws himself face down into the cushions and I laugh as I gather our shirts off the floor. With my shirt covering my body again, I walk back to where Kyle is close to passing out.

"Put zis back on before you fall asleep," I say, yanking the shirt over his head when he sits up. After he redresses, I pull him down onto the couch with me, allowing him to shift until his head is resting on my chest, the rest of him sprawled out over top of me. I feel him hum contentedly and gaze down at him curiously before my own eyes drift shut in thought and tiredness.

The alcohol must be clouding my judgment, making me think of such ludicrous ideas, right? Christophe DeLorne does not love, especially not Kyle Broflovski. …Right? Oh, _Mon Dieu_.


End file.
